Mr. Hawley accepted the invitation with a backward glance at Jimmy, who stood watching them forlornly, his rosy mouth half open, the silver pieces tightly clutched in one moist little hand.
“Kind o’ small, ain’t he, to be goin’ ’round by himself in a place like this?” he ventured. “I’ll bet his sister wouldn’t like it over an’ ’bove.”
“He’s been pretty well spoiled,” David said sharply. “I intend to make a man of him, and this is as good a way to begin as any. There’s nothing to hurt him around here.”
“You may ’xperience some trouble in locatin’ him after a spell,” opined Mr. Hawley, shaking his head. “I remember m’ wife let me bring one o’ our boys t’ the fair once, a number o’ years ago, when Lansing, our oldest boy, was ’bout five. I was lookin’ at the live-stock, an’ Lance, he got kind o’ tuckered out, an’ I sez to him——”
“Oh, cut out the details,” David interrupted. “You didn’t lose the kid for good, did you?”
“No; I got him after a while; but it pretty near scared the life out o’ me an’ him both, I remember; ’n’ m’ wife——”
“Come,” said David, with some impatience, “and we’ll enter the horse.”
He turned and stared sharply at the other man.
“You ought to know what you’re talking about, Hawley, when you say my horse stands a good show to win. Suppose I change my mind and allow you to drive him, and you let him be beaten. What then?”
The liveryman shrugged his shoulders.